The Real Death of Michael Townly
by Jpcthunder
Summary: A two (maybe three) chapter story of the events leading up to and during Michael's death and funeral. Original story that takes place after The Third Way mission of Grand Theft Auto V.


The Real Death of Michael Townly

Jimmy had always known his dad was going to die eventually. For real, not for some FIB cover up. There wouldn't be a move to some new city or a simple name change. He supposed that his dad, Michael, was invincible. Jimmy thought nothing could touch his father, and thought that all of the bullets and all the fist fights couldn't do it, nothing could, not yet. After everything happening, with trained hitmen coming to their house even, his father should have been around until he hit ninety.

But he wasn't, he was gone and he wasn't coming back.

It seemed so empty in their house now. Even when he was screaming or knocking over whiskey bottles, Michael seemed to bring noise and life into the De Santa household. Even when Michael and Jimmy's mother were arguing, at least his dad was there. Even when he was passed out on the couch, watching his old copy of Rum Runner for the millionth time, his father was still there, the same old vindictive, spiteful, horrible, killer of a father, but still his father, and nothing could change that.

Tracey hadn't wrapped her head around the funeral yet, not wanting to think about her father's dead body. Jimmy felt sorry for her, he didn't have the same kind of connection to his father that Tracey did, or had. She had barely moved in the past four days. She wouldn't eat, not that Tracey ate that much anyway, she was too obsessed with her figure. She couldn't care less anymore. She would rather be fat and loved than skinny and fatherless, not that it was a choice. His sister had gone into a sobbing fit the first night, the tears almost staining the pillow now. She had even broken up with her boyfriend, and Jimmy had actually liked that one.

Amanda didn't get sad, she got angry. Jimmy's mother was never one to cry or sob like his sister. Amanda had grown accustomed to cooking meals with the family lately, especially after the 'Fabien' incident. The night after the accident, she had tried her hardest to cook, but couldn't manage it. She had broken six dishes, bent three forks, and had thrown two pots into the swimming pool. All of this madness had brought her back to the early 90s, when Michael and her had first met. In the place she worked, in a strip club. _I love you babe, I'm gonna take you away from all this_ he had said to her a few months later. She remembered the exact words.

_I promise you'll never have to take your clothes off for money ever again. You'll never be degraded by some drunk strangers. I promise you that if your with me, you'll always be happy, and you'll never feel the way you do here._

And for a while, she was happy. Amanda was happier than could be. Her husband was a killer and a thief, but she was happy. The love of her life was most often robbing a bank or a store or getting drunk with his idiot friends, but God was she happy. He was never a problem back then. He was always sober by the time he got home. He never laid a hand on her, like so many of her previous boyfriends. The scar on her belly from Brian, the last guy she had seen before meeting Michael, still showed as prominently as it did the day she received it. Amanda remembered the first time Michael had seen her naked in a room that wasn't dark and beaming with strobe lights. _What is this? _He had asked. She had said it was an accident, her fault.

The North Yankton State Police had found Brian's body floating in a river outside of Ludendorff a few days later.

Her husband wasn't a good person, by far, but she loved him anyway. There was only one thing she had no idea how to deal with. The one thing that drove everyone around town crazy. An insane typhoon of agonizing psychopathic behavior. It was Michael's best friend.

Trevor Phillips, she met him the same night she met her husband. Amanda thought he was wild at first, but had no idea what she was getting into. Amanda had seen plenty of spilled drinks in her time at that club, but had never seen one spilled on Trevor. In the end, there were ten broken bones, four missing teeth, a gallon of spilled blood and a lot of screaming. Amanda was scared, there were no other ways to express it.

Her husband never abused her back then, but then somehow, after the move, everything changed. She remembered her first day at the new Los Santos house. Tracey had been bothering her about the movers, making sure they didn't drop any boxes or she would lose her mind, god forbid anything gets broken. Jimmy wouldn't talk to anyone, too concentrated on his small disk player and the crappy music coming out of it. Michael of course, was drinking, the sight of his own grave and Brad being lowered into it had put a taste in his mouth that only alcohol could wash off. By the time they had pulled into the drive, she was almost carrying her husband through the door.

Now six people would be carrying her husband from a hearse and into the ground, for real this time. There would be no cover up, no name change, no move. And even through all of the screaming and yelling, all the fights and cheating, Amanda couldn't help but feel lost without her husband.

"Mom!" Jimmy yelled from the living room, "It's time to go"

Amanda looked herself over once more in her mirror. The long thick heels she wore hurt her feet, and the long black dress hung on her loosely, thrown together like it belonged to a hobo. She pulled at her hair and tried her best to straighten it out. Her makeup was sparse in the places where it should have been plentiful, and her lipstick was almost smeared on her chin. Amanda looked like garbage, and felt even worse.

Jimmy sat down on the couch in the most uncomfortable manner he could manage, straight up, making sure not to mess up his new suit. It was so much different from the one he wore to the movie premier. Wheras that one was cheap and tried to make him look like a gangster, with it's baggy pants and the long fake golden chain hanging from his neck, swinging to and fro. This suit looked like one of his father's, pure black with fine stitching and a pocket square. He fumbled with his red tie, the only deviation from the black and white of his suit.

"Here honey" Amanda said, grabbing the tie from him, "Let me help you" She looped the tie and knotted it much more intricately than Jimmy had.

"Thanks ma" he said to her, straightening the tie as his mother gave him a quick kiss on the forehead.

"Well, we better get going" Amanda started to walk out "Tracey!" she called after her daughter, who replied with a meek "I'm coming!"

"Ma" Jimmy got his mother's attention as she opened the door.

"Do you think they'll be there?" He asked her as she stood speechless at the door.

* * *

"Trevor!" Franklin yelled outside of his friend's trailer "Get your crazy cannibalistic ass out here man"

Dead silence. There was no response from Phillips as Franklin stood outside, the desert breeze disturbing the tranquility of his outfit, a black suit and green tie, matched unsuccessfully with a pair of white sneakers.

"TREV!"

Again, nothing. "God damn man, we ain't got the fucking time for this." He said to Lamar, Ron and Wade as he approached the trailer. Franklin rapped on the door three times, hoping to see Trevor open it, fully clothed and ready to go. Sadly, this wouldn't pan out, and Franklin had to force himself into the trailer to see Trevor passed out on his couch in nothing but his underwear, a beer in one hand and a meth pipe in the other.

"Fuck" Lamar stated as he saw the state of Trevor's house. "Crazy dude need some serious fucking home renovations, nigga."

"You can say that again, nigga." Franklin kicked Trevor lightly, mindful of the pocketknife sitting by the Canadian's hand.

"AGHHHHH" Trevor screamed as he threw the beer bottle against the wall. "WHAT?!"

Franklin and Lamar backed up quickly, with Lamar almost moving out of the threshold of the trailer. Franklin was the first to speak after the shouting fit, "Chill, homie, it's time man."

"IT'S TIME, I KNOW IT'S TIME, I KNOW WHAT FUCKING TIME IT IS" Trevor screamed at the two men, throwing the pipe against the wall as well, a collection of glass gathering under his kitchen counter.

"Man, calm the fuck down, man" Franklin stammered "It's time for Mike's thing man"

Trevor looked almost close to tears, after all of the time wanting to kill Michael himself, he still felt horrible. He loved that guy, not in a gay way, but like a brother. Just when he was thinking of getting rid of the _R.I.P Michael _tattoo on his arm too. "FUCK" He yelled. "FUCK FUCK FUCK"

"Look man, it's cool" Franklin said "It's fucked up shit yeah. But it happened, and screaming at everything ain't gonna make nothing better."

"How do you know huh? HOW DO YOU KNOW?"

"I know because he was my friend too man, I may not have known him as long as you did, but we was fucking close homie. After the shit at the UD, and all the bullshit with fucking Devin." Franklin put a hand on his shoulder, "And fucking Haines, and that double crossing nigga Strech, and Cheng. We was fucking brothers man." He pointed to Trevor "We still fucking brothers."

"I KNOW" The psychopath cried loudly.

"So let's get you dressed man, and we'll head down to the parlor."

It took almost a half hour for Trevor to get dressed, between fits of sobbing and trying to fight every step of the way, almost like a baby, throwing his clothes off and Franklin and Lamar needing to pull them back onto his body. Finally, everyone was loaded into Franklin's Buffalo, with Ron, Wade, and Lamar packed into the back seat and Franklin driving. Trevor reluctantly threw himself into the passenger seat and they sped away from the outskirts of Sandy Shores and off to downtown Los Santos.

They arrived at the funeral parlor a few hours later, just in time to see the body before it was brought to the graveyard. Amanda, Jimmy, and Tracey were currently standing in the corner, receiving condolences from the few friends Michael had left, including Soloman Richards, who brought almost a dozen bunches of flowers with him, a bouquet for Amanda and several others to sit atop Michael's casket.

"Uncle T?" Jimmy walked out of sight of his mother to hug Trevor. "Man you guys gotta get out of here before my mom sees you" He pounded Franklin's fist with his own and nodded hello to Lamar.

"Man, your pops was our friend" Franklin said sourly, "And your moms says we can't come to his funeral, that's wack."

"If he was your friend, why'd you let him drive?" Jimmy asked Franklin, equally as sour.

"Man" Franklin sighed "It was a fucking accident man"

"YOU TWO"

"Oh fuck" Trevor mouthed under his breath. Amanda had seen them, and she was pissed.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS FUNERAL PARLOR YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES!" she walked towards them with speed. Franklin hadn't felt this scared going up against a group of Ballas. He didn't know how Michael had dealt with this for more than twenty years. "You two are not welcome here" She snapped at Trevor and Franklin.

"Come on Amanda" Trevor said.

"Come on Amanda?" She stammered and then fell into a whisper "You said the same fucking thing when you killed someone AT MY WEDDING"

"They never found the body" Trevor whispered back as Franklin looked at his friend in disbelief.

"Look Mrs. De Santa…" Franklin started.

"Don't you dare 'Mrs. De Santa' me Franklin." Amanda snapped loudly. "Because I am officially single because of you two fucking idiots!"

"It was an accident"

"The only accident was the one that God made when the crash killed Michael on impact instead of you two" she walked away, her heels pounding on the tile of the floor as she rushed out of the room. Tracey followed after her in stride, running to console her mother.


End file.
